Hardly Android
by Brobdingnagian Pseudonym
Summary: Sherlock was always a modern man. ...Perhaps a little too modern.
1. Chapter 1

"John. John. John. John. John." Sherlock chanted as he loomed over his head like a small tornado which had swallowed an alarm clock. He already had two suitcases packed, a set of clothes for John laid out over a chair and a cab waiting outside their door and was by now was convinced that his partner was willfully staying unconcious for the sole purpose of making them late.

"Mmsher... s'early." John blinked sleepily, pulling the blankets over his ears to shield himself from the detective's imposing shadow.

"John. We have to be at the telair station in an hour." Sherlock growled back, pulling the covers off him completely. John groaned in defeat and sat up.

"Telair... Why?" John croaked, not yet capable of speaking sentence consisting of more than one word.

Sherlock half pulled him up to his feet. "Because planes are too tedious and dangerous. Now get dressed." While John was still in a confuzed, tired haze, Sherlock was buzzing around him. Tugging his arms this way and that and manuvering him into a shirt.

"How is getting blasted apart and put back together a thousand miles away less dangerous than planes?" John mumbled blearily as Sherlock reached both arms around him to do up the buttons on his shirt. If he were any more awake, he'd bark at him for treating him like a child. But at this point he wasn't entirely sure he wasn't still dreaming.

"Too many humans involved. Teleportation is a simple mechanized procedure. One machine. One person to push buttons. Get scanned. Get zapped. Done. There are too many variables with planes. When was the last time the pilot slept? Has the pilot been drinking? Was the engineer who last repaired the plane qualified? Is the stewardess going to have a psychotic break and kill everyone aboard? Is the baby in aisle 3 going to throw up on me? Is a flock of geese going to fly into the engine? If this beef actually horsemeat? Is this horsemeat actually poisoned? And don't get me started on the radiation." He ranted on as he quickly combed through John's hair. Sherlock thanked god for his soldier's naturally simplistic nature as he swiped his fingers over John's scalp. Only a few minutes and he's as presentable as always.

"So... we're going somewhere?" Sherlock rolled his eyes and damned his soldier's naturally simplistic nature.

The detective glared at the back of John's head as he pulled on his trousers, oblivious to Sherlock's fury. "...I told you two weeks ago in the smallest, simplest words possible that you must be ready by four this morning because we have a case America. Laziness is one thing, John but your blatant ignorance is quite another."

"Was I... in the room when you told me?" John asked patiently, pulled a jumper over his head.

Sherlock's lip twitched downward. He hated it when John had a reasonable point. "Well, it's hardly my job to be keeping track of your every move, now is it?" John sighed, suppressing his frustration and annoyance in a valiant effort not to get into a meaningless fight this early in the morning.

"God, falling in love with you was a bad idea." John groaned, rubbing the rest of the sleep out of his eyes.

"Well..." Sherlock's eyelashes fluttered over his cheeks as a haughty smirk tugged at his lips. "You can't say I didn't warn you."

A gentle kiss passed between them and although neither of the two were prone to sudden outbursts of sentiment, they both could've sworn the first light of dawn cracked in the other's eyes.

"You didn't warn me." John mumbled, suddenly deciding that a meaningless fight might actually be the perfect thing to wake him up.

"Of course I did!" He growled, seizing the small suitcase he had packed for John and shoving it into his hands.

"You told me that you're anti-social and you play the violin." John protested as he accepted the case. "Hardly a proper warning considering the flat was attacked by neo-ninjas the other day."

"Please. I practically have a flashing sign over my head saying 'BAD IDEA'. Lord only knows what Molly was thinking when she created me." Sherlock ranted on as they marched out of 221b.

"This is a total waste of time." A different, taller John growled bitterly through his teeth. He crossed his arms, causing his muscles to bulge like over-inflated balloons. The end result of this was of course making him look tougher than a battering ram covered in low grit sandpaper. He never liked waiting.

"Patience. He'll get here." Dorian sighed, leaning back on the far wall. Blue lights danced over his cheek as he stared aimlessly at the various telair portals and the people streaming through them. Or at least he appeared to be. The great thing about being an android is you can play angry birds any time, anywhere.

"He was supposed to be here an hour ago." Kennex growled at the dingy metal ceiling as if personal insults against his mother were scratched into it. "Why're we even here? We don't need help on this case."

Dorian shut off his game (he wasn't getting anywhere with it anyways) and gave him a look.

Kennex gave it back. "Well, not from a different country."

"The entire department is drawing up a blank-"

"We just hit a snag." Kennex cut in.

"-and the killings keep happening." Dorian's gaze wandered back to the glowing telair portals, letting silence speak for him.

"...Ok fine. We need help." Kennex admitted through gritted teeth, uncrossing an arm and scratching at his scalp. "But not from some foreigner-"

"It's England, man. There's not that big of a cultural gap. And that sounds really-"

"Yeah. I heard it too." Kennex said with grimace. "But what I meant was, we shouldn't have to cross country lines. What makes you so sure he's trustworth-"

"Shut up, there's someone coming through the london portal." Dorian hissed, watching someone slowly materialize in one of the glass cylinders lining the walls.

He started as a mass of molecules whizzing about the portal space. Then slowly, he was pieced together from the cloud like an infinitely complicated puzzle. In about four to five seconds, a fully formed person stood in the tube. He blinked at the shock of materialization and scanned around his new location. For the purposes of easing the post-teleportation shock, all telair stations are made to look the same. So he saw nothing drastically new in his surroundings. Just a different crowd of people and the words 'NEW YORK, NEW YORK, AMERICA' spread across the walls in glowing silver instead of 'LONDON, ENGLAND'. A blue scanner beam ran down the length of the tube, then up again. Making absolutely certain that every molecule was in it's place. Then as the scan was deemed complete, the cylinder opened up and and the portal attendant guided the dazed and temporarily blinded man out, handed him a glass of water and indicated where he could pick up his luggage.

Kennex walked over to the man when after he appeared to have gained his bearings, not even noticing when Dorian told him to wait. "Sherlock Holmes?"

"That's not-" Dorian warned, two seconds too late.

The man huffed a laugh and shook his head, remembering the time that ridiculous assumption nearly got him disintergrated. "He'll be here in a moment. You're... John Kennex and DRN-0167?"

"Call me Dorian." The android smiled good-naturedly, offering his hand to shake. Kennex simply grunted an affrimative. Waiting against a wall for half an hour tended to make him grumpy.

"Right, of course. I'm John Watson, Sherlock's flatmate. Please excuse our lateness. There was an... issue on the other end." John grimaced apologetically as a second cloud formed in the cylinder. "And here he comes now. Try not to punch him too hard."

Sherlock materialized like a storm brewing on the horizon. He threw open the portal door before the scan finished and brushed away the protesting attendant like a fly.

"Where's the body." Were the first words from his mouth.

"Uh." Kennex responded, shooting a questioning glance at his partner who was too busy smile-grimacing to answer.

"Show me the body or, as god as my witness, I will make one." He growled, teeth bared and eyes narrowed to slits.

"Sherlock." John warned, hoping they wouldn't get arrested for threating a cop.

"Ever so sorry. Sherlock Holmes." He said through still bared teeth, offering his hand for a shake. "Now where's the body."


	2. Chapter 2

I know I should be working on my other more popular stories. But whatever. I felt like working on this one.

* * *

Tension buzzed between John Kennex's ears as the foreign passenger in the back seat tapped his fingers. Questions he dare not ask and the implications of any possible answers tore at his sanity.

taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap...

But what threatened it most was that god. damn. tapping.

Taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap...

He ground his teeth so hard, he could already hear his dentist's scolding.

He tried shooting angry glances at his android partner, but he was too busy staring innocently out the window. Pretending not to ignore Kennex's displeasure.

Taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap...

Any chance he got, he stared at his passengers in the review mirrors. Specifically, the one in the ridiculous coat with the ridiculous hair and the ridiculous cheekbones. He looked suspicious from the second he walked out of the teleport cylinder. His movements were just a little too precise. His speech pattern almost mechanically proper. And does he really think he could fool anyone with that face?

Taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap... taptaptaptap

This 'Sherlock Holmes' is an android. Has to be. Right?

Taptaptaptap...

"Do you _mind?"_ Kennex growled, trying to resist the urge to pull over and put him in handcuffs.

The... uh... man in question gave a textbook example of a theatrically exasperated sigh. But he stopped.

The officer shot another glance Dorian's way. This time, he actually met his gaze and ever so slightly shook his head. Kennex rolled his eyes. What does that even mean? No, he's not an synth? No, he's not human? No, don't ask? No, don't tell him to stop tapping his finger's or he'll blow up the car? No, I'd really rather you'd stop shooting me angry glances and keep your eyes on the road?

No is actually a really ambiguous word sometimes.

"Oh, for god's sake." Sherlock sighs from the back seat.

"Sherlo-" John tried gently warning him.

"Shut up, John. I can't take the near palpable doubt any longer. I've had enough of it from the customs officer at the telair station." Sherlock snapped, eyes flashing a fierce green. He stared down Kennex through the rearview mirror. "I am not synthetic."

"Yeah. I'm sure you just get a lot of work done." Kennex scoffed.

Dorian hissed as his face distorted into a severe grimace. "Bad idea."

John Watson sighed and braced himself against the storm sure to come.

Sherlock leaned far forward. "I was made from the cryogenically frozen corpse of a man named William Scott. His brain was re-wired to be programmable, a basic artificial intelligence was installed and from that I grew my own _entirely independent _conciousness. My skin to my inner ear bones is all completely organic. In that sense, I am actually less _synthetic_ than you are."

Kennex nearly veers off the road at the mention of his prosthetic leg. "Dorian! You-"

"Keep your eyes on the road!" Dorian lunges for the wheel, preventing them from driving through a tree.

"Sherlock, what have I told you about pissing off the driver!?" John scolds as he half prepares to swing open the door and jump, tuck and roll.

"I assume the same thing you told me about not pissing off judges, the elderly, children, people with guns, people with machetes, drug lords... You have to admit, you can be quite repetitive about such matters." Sherlock said conversationally, managing to retain balance as Kennex regained control of the car.

"Maybe I wouldn't need to keep repeating myself if you'd just _listen." _John hissed between gasps of relief as the car straightened out in it's lane.

"I always listen to you." Sherlock replied softly, his facial features softening just enough to twang at John's heartstrings. "I can hardly help it if most of what you say is irrelevant drivel and ends up deleted."

"Dorian..." Kennex hissed, gripping the wheel as if it were his partner's neck. "Who is this guy, what exactly have you told him about me and why the hell didn't you tell me he's a _fucking android?"_

"He didn't tell me anything. Your left shoe is more scuffed than-"

"I can't believe you'd think I'd disrespect you like that, man!" Dorian huffed, completely ignoring Sherlock continuing on behind him.

"-the right, suggesting you haven't entirely adapted to having a false appendage." Sherlock continued, apparently not realizing Dorian was talking over him. "And I resent being thought of as an inferior when I am in fact the most intelligent being in this car, birthed or oth-OW!" Sherlock leaned over to rub at his newly bruised shin.

"You're being insufferable." John groaned as his partner in crime-solving shot him his best pouty glare.

"You kicked me." Sherlock's pouty glare turned more pout than glare.

"Oh stop being a baby." John rolled his eyes.

"Well, I am only five."

"I've watched you treat knife wounds like papercuts."

"But you _kicked _me."

Fed up with everything to do with the bickering couple in the back seat, Kennex pulled the car into a u-turn. "That's it."

"John, what are you doing?" Dorian asked his partner.

"Going back to the station." Kennex told him matter-of-factly.

"Dude. I know he's a little..." There was a pause while Dorian tried to find an adjective. Then he realized there had yet to be a word invented to fit that space. So he moved on. "But he's the-"

"Look, I don't care if these guys are James Bond and the queen. They're going back to England."

Sherlock, disliking the recent turn of events, unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over the driver's seat. "I can tell you don't like me. It's really just common sense, especially for one as distrustful as yourself and an insensitive bastard such as myself. But, as there are lives and a fantastically intricate case at stake, I will give you a choice.

"1) You turn around right now. Take us to the police station. Do your silly legality procedures. Let us in on the case. I'll babystep you through solving it and you can take all the credit.

"2) You go on and take us to the telair station, drop us off and we'll turn around and stalk you. We'll break into your crime scenes, steal your evidence, solve the case in an entirely illegal fashion, and make the police look like utter fools in the process. On top of that, it's very possible that working against the law will take extra time in which the killer can viciously torture and kill any of the thousands of innocent lives you're meant to protect." Satisfied that he's made his point, Sherlock leaned back in his seat and smirked quietly to himself.

With only a resigned sigh, Kennex turned the car around.

"Made your decision?"

"Shut up."


End file.
